Home
by StarWalker42
Summary: Based on The Force Awakens speculation. Han returns to the Resistance and is sooner or later forced to come to terms with what he left behind all those years ago. Han/Leia.


**Summary:** Based on The Force Awakens speculation. Han returns to the Resistance and is sooner or later forced to come to terms with what he left behind all those years ago. Han x Leia.

 **Disclaimer:** Based on The Force Awakens rumours and trailers- I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENS, THIS IS ALL SPECULATION. Also, I don't own Star Wars and I'm making no money from my fics!

 **A/N:** As stated already, this is kind of based on The Force Awakens and all the rumours that have been flying around, so firstly, if you don't want to know, don't read on! I'm so excited for the new film and I just felt the need to write something that *could* fit into the storyline. Until I am gladly proved wrong on December 17th, this is my version of Leia and Han's reunion in Episode 7. Reviews are really helpful!

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 **Home**

 _Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in._

-Robert Frost

The whine of X-Wing engines and hurrying pilots is hardly muted by the thin walls of the tent that snap and billow alarmingly in the onslaught of Yavin's wind. Han feels the flimsy fabric press into his back and can only wince as the endless stream of noise and movement continues to assault his senses. The disorientation isn't helped by the steadily gnawing headache that is manifesting itself in Han's right temple, where his wound is still leaking blood. Not for the first time, he wonders what he hell he's doing here.

Under normal circumstances, the other inhabitant of the tent would be teasing him about banging his head into the _Falcon_ 'sforward mandible (it _has_ been there for all the time he's had the ship, after all) but there is not even an attempt at conversation. He can't see Leia open the medi-kit, but hears the click of its lid and senses her moving towards him.

Through closed eyes he feels the dried blood that runs across his lids and his cheek being wiped away. There is a slight pressure on his forehead as her delicate hands wrap a bandage around his wound, before securing it over his cut.

Han keeps his eyes shut even when he feels Leia's hands move away- he can feel her gaze on him well enough, he doesn't need to see it as well. She is the one who breaks the silence.

"Why did you come back?"

With a sign of resignation, Han forces himself to open his eyes and look at her. She is scrutinising the floor, or maybe the couple of inches that lie between their toes, with studious intensity, and for a while he can study her downturned features in secret. He mentally traces the familiar jawline to where her now-greying hair is tied in a style that, for once, actually seems possible to construct. There is a network of fine lines framing her eyes, making them appear older than Han would've thought possible. And when she finally realises the subject of his attention has shifted and raises her eyes, he notices that the spark that was always so bright in her eyes is gone. She looks so painfully _tired_ , and Han begins to wonder how much of it is his fault.

"I... I didn't want to be a story anymore." He manages finally.

That almost gets a half smile from her, but it is gone almost as soon as it appears. Without that wry humour, without the fire in her eyes, Leia is almost unrecognisable. She's fading away, and he's powerless to stop it.

"You've changed."

"We all have."

His thoughts slip instantly to Luke, or more specifically what Maz had said had happened to him. He'd been trying ever since to remember the last time he'd seen his friend, but so far had always drawn a blank. Some part of him hoped it wasn't true, that Luke was still around somewhere and was simply too busy doing his Jedi thing to come and see him. But Han was a born sceptic, and Maz was rarely ever wrong.

"Maz Kanata told me about Luke." He ventures, hoping she will look at him in confusion and disprove everything he knows to be true.

Even the mention of her brother's name, though, seems to squeeze all remnants of life out of Leia. She slams the medi-kit shut, too forcefully, and says, with a touch of durasteel, "I don't want to talk about Luke."

It's true, then. Luke has been gone for- what? five years? more?- almost as long as Han himself. And Leia (oh hells, Leia) has been alone for all that time. Something in him breaks a little more.

Han opens his mouth to apologise, but the words die before he can even begin. His eyes have landed on her hands, which are still clenched on the medi-kit as if it's the last solid thing left in the galaxy, but that's not what he's noticing. He has to blink a few times to make sure what he's seeing says there.

On one shaking finger, resting between two bone-white knuckles, is a ring. He'd noticed it in passing earlier, but had discarded it as nothing more than jewellery, maybe a present from someone that she wore out of politeness rather than vanity. After all, Leia has rarely ever worn anything of value in the long time he's known her.

But now, up close, he recognises it… and the sudden recognition makes his heart twist and threatens to bring tears to his eyes. For a long moment he is speechless.

"You kept it."

It isn't a question.

Her fingers wrap around the ring, as if to confirm what he's talking about, or simply to remind herself it's still there. Han recognises his own old habit of twisting the ring between thumb and forefinger, although with Leia it seems more a remorseful action than a nervous one.

The sight makes his heart sink a little more, past the point of hope. There is no trace of life in the dull metal band, as if it, like Leia's own spirit, has been completely extinguished. Han is not a sentimental person- he knows the ring has no spark, no way of showing its owner's emotions. But he should feel _something_.

Still half in denial, he reaches his hand inside his shirt and touches the cool chain that rests hidden underneath. Han can't remember the last time he's taken the chain off, and the weight of it is almost unbearable, but he doesn't let that stop him. He tries to ignore the trembling of his hands as he fumbles with the clasp, finally freeing it from under his shirt. At the movement, Leia raises her eyes, and an audible intake of breath almost catches in her throat.

Then silence, only broken by the almost musical jingling of metal links.

"Why don't you wear it?" Leia asks finally.

He feels his lips twist into a lopsided grin. "It doesn't go with my tough guy image."

Her eyes don't shift from the chain, and Han finds himself looking, too, at the nondescript loop of metal that hangs from it between them. Before he knows what he's doing, he's slid the ring off its chain and dropped it into Leia's it lands there. Again, he feels her gaze burning into him, but ignores it as he moves to take her other hand and cautiously touches the ring still on her finger. It doesn't respond to his touch; there is nothing to remind him of the vows it signifies, the promises he's now broken. Perhaps irreversibly.

He wants to punch something, maybe himself, or scream or cry or just curl up in the corner and never get up again. He wants to hug Leia. He can't find the energy to do anything but sit there and watch the ring.

Then Leia surprises him by taking his hand in hers and silently replacing his ring where it belongs on his finger. The simple gesture is almost too much for him to take, not to mention the sensation of Leia's skin on his, a touch he has gone so long without. Her fingers remain on the ring, maybe trying to establish the same connection he himself failed to earlier.

It is an eternity before she lets go, after coming to the result that he has, and then shakily answers the question he's been silently asking.

"I don't know why I wear it. I hate it when people ask me what happened to my husband."

 _Because you don't know what's happened._ Han finishes for her. _And I don't think I do, either._

Breaths hang in the air between them, a lifetime of unspoken words suddenly condensed to moments of silence that almost make Han's vision blur again.

"Leia."

Her dark eyes snap up and latch onto his. He holds her gaze for a moment of quavering uncertainty before throwing whatever objections he has out of his mind. For the first time in as long as he can remember, he reaches out and brushes his thumb over her cheekbone.

The contact is nothing, so light that Han himself can barely feel it, but it is all he needs for everything to slip back into place, to orient itself, to begin making sense again. Her presence and her touch works the same magic as it always has, filling him, making him whole, making the air escape from his lungs and his heart skip a beat. And despite everything- Luke's absence, the Resistance's useless struggle, Leia's pain and Finn and Rey and whatever those rumours of a new Sith mean... everything is going to be okay.

Maybe Leia feels it too (or maybe it is just realising that he is here, for once, and isn't going to leave- not if he can help it) because finally there is a smile. It's only a ghost of one, but it's there.

And Gods, there is so much he wants to say, _needs_ to say, in that moment… but nothing comes out. His mouth is suddenly dry and his brain is finding it difficult to process any speech, regardless.

So he says nothing, merely guides her face to his and presses his lips against hers.

There is something in that kiss that feels like coming home and having his heart wrenched out of his chest at the same time, and it is that that lets him accepts it: he still loves her, as much and if not more than he did thirty years ago. The acceptance only serves to make the moment more bittersweet.

Eventually, hesitantly, he breaks the contact, feeling her fragile breath caress his cheek as their hands grip together so tightly that it hurts. There is no need for words as he presses his forehead to hers, their noses touching, his eyes shut tightly against tears.

END.


End file.
